


Creation (Serpent Days)

by Lady_Of_Paper_7



Series: Ineffable [2]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Bickering, Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, Fluff, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Short & Sweet, Surprises
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-07-23 10:45:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16157447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Of_Paper_7/pseuds/Lady_Of_Paper_7
Summary: “But it’s the countryside”, Crowley felt like he needed to point out, “and I’m wearingcomfortable clothes”“And they suit you very well, dear”





	Creation (Serpent Days)

Creation

 

“Absolutely not”

“But Crowley-“

“No, of all things, I’m not having, this is the one that’s-“

“Well, now you got me on the edge of my seat”

Crowley scowled but went on autocratically; “You’re not driving us anywhere”

“I didn’t say I wanted to”, Aziraphale corrected, “what I did say was, that I wanted you to let me ask the Bentley to drive us somewhere”

The angel beamed at him, only partly because he’d recently found out that Crowley, no matter how cool he tried to make everyone think he was, just could not help but gush and give in when his spouse smiled that brightly. Naturally, Aziraphale had put that information to good use already but he had to remind himself, not to do it too often, least Crowley became aware of it himself.

“Because that’s just straight forward, logical thinking right there”, the demon grumbled into his newly filled glass.

He casually glared at the waiter that had been hovering behind Aziraphale’s chair for quite some time now but did not quite dare point out to the couple that the bar had closed a little over an hour ago.

“And I do know your opinion on taxis-“

“You promised not to bring them up again”

A dark look passed over Crowley’s face and the wine in his glass turned into water. Aziraphale could have sworn he’d heard something like ‘worst idea I’ve ever had’.

“There you have it”, the angel showed him a soft smile as he reached across the table and plucked the offending glass from his spouse’s fingers, “I think, we’ve had enough anyway”

The waiter almost started crying when they finally payed and left.

Aziraphale slipped his hand into Crowley’s when they stepped out onto the sidewalk and ambled towards the Bentley. They’re footsteps echoed loudly in the cold night and they huddled closer.

“So, what do you say?”, the angel asked, climbing into the passenger seat and gently closing the door. Both, Crowley and the Bentley tended to become rather irritated when someone slammed the doors.

He watched his spouse start the car, gaze into the rear-view mirror and pull out of the parking space.

“Please, Crowley”, he pleaded when his spouse broke the speed limit by a mere 10 miles an hour and refrained himself from swerving too violently around the corner they rounded. He was definitely getting closer but if this ended up taking much more than another hour, the angel might resort to sticking out his bottom lip and pout at the demon, but he’d refrain form that as long as he could though.

“Where do you want to go anyway?”, Crowley sighed as he ignored a red light, “you haven’t spilled that yet.”

“I told you; it’s a surprise”,

“Angel…”, he sounded slightly pained when he turned to Aziraphale, “I love you, I really do, but I can’t do more than three flea-markets a month”

“It’s no flea-market”, the angel promised and went on without giving his spouse a chance to interrupt, “or auction, exhibition or anything like that. You’ll enjoy it, I promise”

“And you won’t tell me what it is, because…?”

“It’s a _surprise_ ”, Aziraphale said very slowly, every syllable sounding as if it were the solution to all problems, humanity faced on a daily basis, “and I love you too, by the way”

Crowley’s cheeks flushed in the faintest shade of pink under his shades and he continued watching his spouse for another couple of blocks while the Bentley drove on his own.

Aziraphale smiled.

 

\---

 

Countryside flew by Bentley’s windows. Endless countryside with tiny houses, trees and sheep.

“And you’re sure, you looked up the right address?”

Every time Crowley found himself leaving the city for the more rural areas of the county he was in, an uneasy feeling settled in his bones and this time was no different.

“Completely sure”

Aziraphale had pulled his feet up onto the passenger seat and now sat cross-legged with his back resting against the door and window with a book in front of his face. From time to time, he looked up at Crowley, who’d been hunching his shoulders higher and higher the further they strayed from London.

“And no museums”, he continued the seemingly never-ending list of places he wouldn’t visit.

“No museums”, Aziraphale agreed, turning a page, “really, you act like I’m tying you down on your deathbed – figurately speaking of course”, he hurriedly added the last part, before his spouse had gotten out his reply, “and I promised you, that you’ll enjoy it so just relax”

“But it’s the _countryside_ ”, Crowley felt like he needed to point out, “and I’m wearing _comfortable clothes_ ”

“And they suit you very well, dear”

He didn’t need to lie; soft black pants, which had doubtlessly cost more than some people earned in year and hugged Crowley’s long legs in all the right places, and a tight leather-jacket over a wine-coloured shirt did look better on  Crowley than they’d look on most people and Aziraphale was rather proud of himself that he’d managed to talk his spouse into leaving the house without wearing a suit for once.

“I think, we’ll be there soon, anyway”, the angel eventually placed his newest copy of ‘The Picture Of Dorian Gray’ on the dashboard.

They passed another hour by discussing just how ugly and inappropriate looking the book cover of that edition was. At some point, Aziraphale asked Crowley, whether it was his doing that the majority of cover designs for this novel, featured brunet or black-haired men instead of blonde youths as they ought to and Crowley’s reply had not definitely been ‘no’. He did look slightly ashamed though; they’d both rather liked Oscar Wilde after all and had enjoyed his company.

“You’re sure, this is it, I take it?”, Crowley weakly asked when the Bentley parked and powered itself down with a satisfied purr. He patted the steering wheel in thanks.

“Yes, I’m sure”, the angel stretched his back as soon as he’d excited the car and thanked it for taking them there, “Come on”

The building they’d arrived at stood surrounded by huge, old trees and bushes. It looked a little like an overgrown gingerbreadhouse and smoke was billowing from his chimney.

“When the witch that lives here announces, she’s going to cook and eat us, you’ll go first, angel, I’m telling you”

“Okay”, Aziraphale promised when they’d reached the front door and pushed it open.

The first thing, Crowley noticed when they entered was, that it was a lot warmer inside of the house than outside. He looked around what seemed to be some kind of lobby while Aziraphale hurried over to the counter, talked to the blonde woman behind it received a key form her before Crowley, who had rejected the very notion, that he should hurry instead of saunter somewhere millennia ago, had even reached the counter. The woman had just pointed out the direction they should go, when Aziraphale thanked her and started leading Crowley that way.

“What are you doing?”, he sounded not at all impressed, when they entered a rather tastefully decorated changing room and the angel started taking off his shoes, coat, scarf and did not stop until nothing but a towel around his waist was left.

“What does it look like?”, even his glasses found a place among the clothes he’d piled up in a lock box in a neat pile, “come on we literally don’t have all day”

“Let me rephrase it then”, Crowley made no move to do as he’d been told but didn’t stop the angel form from slowly undressing him whilst rolling his eyes; “Why are we trading in our clothes for these”, he picked up a fluffy white towel, much like Aziraphale’s, “and why did we drive four hours to do it here?”, he glared at the angel when he removed his sunglasses as well and placed them beside his own in the lock box.

“Because”, Aziraphale reached upwards and smoothed the demon’s hair and off his forehead before he kissed his brow, wrapped his arm around Crowley’s waist, above a towel the demon had not quite consented on wearing, and steered him towards another, smaller, door made out of milky glass, “etiquette”

Crowley had just opened his mouth to reply something undoubtedly sarcastic but that was when his spouse opened the glass door and gently pushed him inside the small, dimly lit room and a billow of hot, humid air hit them. He immediately felt his shoulders relax and muscles untense and the protest died on his lips.

The interior of the room seemed to be entirely made up of light wood and steam and the latter was billowing up from the grid in the middle of the room, where coals lay sizzling. Around the grid, two wooden platforms rose up and some feet away from it stood a bucket of water and a wooden ladle.

“Angel”, Crowley purred unintentionally, his vertical pupils huge and black when he turned his head to face Aziraphale.

“I take it”, the angel pulled him over to the lower platform and sat down next to him, slumping back against the wood of the second step, “you hate it, right?”

He wasn’t sure whether Crowley had heard that because it looked as if all the bones in his body had liquified the moment he touched the warm wood and his body seemed to spill across the platform and Aziraphale, who laughed and gently moved him off his legs. By the time, the angel lay down beside Crowley and laid his forehead against his, Aziraphale’s pale skin was already covered with a thin layer of sweat but the demon’s skin stayed dry and looked, if anything, gleaming. He quietly laughed again as he placed on hand on Crowley’s sternum and let it stay there, he half expected to feel a purr rumble deep within his chest at some point.

Crowley’s entire body was loose and, for once, as warm as it needed to be to be comfortable. Still, one yellow eye cracked open to gaze at Aziraphale when he heard him laugh and a lazy smile stretched the demon’s lips upwards at the sight of his spouse’s half plastered down, blond curls.

“Hm?”, he hummed as he reached up to ruffle the messy blond strands a little more and decided that all the effort it had taken to lift his arm would be wasted if he did not pull the angel down for a kiss.

“Next time, I try to take you out for your birthday, will you make less of a fuss?”, Aziraphale breathed against Crowley’s lips, pressing their noses together.

“We don’t have birthdays, you know”, Crowley sighed contently, and his spouse decided that, from now on, every time they had to have a discussion, he’d make sure to have it in a sauna. It was much more pleasant that way.

“It sounds better than ‘the day you were created’”, the angel pointed out with a soft smile and kissed Crowley again. He had never seen him look so utterly blissed and content, even when they made love or cuddled and held each other close.

“’s shorter too”

One of the advantages of knowing someone for six thousand odd years was that you didn’t need to have to see their face to know that they were rolling his eyes.

“I’m still cooking dinner when we get back and you get a present”, the angel went on, smoothing his hand along Crowley’s neck, chest and stomach. A tremor seemed to go through the demon’s body and he sighed softly, closing his eyes again, “because I, for one, am very happy that you’re here with me, dear”

“I know”, Crowley covered Aziraphale’s hand with his and squeezed his fingers in his, even when he heard the angel snort, “but trust me, you being here’s much better, angel”

**Author's Note:**

> I just had a really silly idea and thought, it might be kind of cute, I hope, you've enjoyed reading it!


End file.
